


Passing

by monica4567



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, General, Post-War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-29
Updated: 2006-10-29
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monica4567/pseuds/monica4567
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU vignette of one of the Fellowship receiving bad news. No, it didn't happen, but I was suddenly struck with this scene in my head and decided to take the plunge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

“My friends,” Aragorn said, rising to stand before to the group feasting with their lord and friend. “I cannot express the extent of my gratitude and joy in seeing all of you here, safe and hale, after so many struggles.” 

Aragorn smiled as he raised his cup to them. There was much to be grateful for. The Fellowship was together once more, and for once, they were sharing a meal without danger lurking behind them. The hobbits laughed heartily as they ate, and Gandalf and Aragorn eagerly listened to their lively conversation. Gimli traded insults with Legolas, to the entertainment of Faramir and Éowyn. Legolas could see as well as feel the sense of relief and accomplishment shared by all. He also felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

“I must admit,” Aragorn continued, “to some surprise on my part that we succeeded in our quest. But succeed we did. Every one of you is dear to me. I thank the Valar deeply for their many blessings, not the least of which are all of you.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Pippin said enthusiastically. Clearly it was not the first he had drank to. 

“Well said, Aragorn,” Gimli added. 

Legolas added his nod. “I only hope that our lands and our people have fared as well as we have,” Gimli grunted in agreement. 

An attendant peered through the door, biting his lip. “My lord, there is a visitor,” the man announced to Aragorn. “He is—an elf, my lord, and requests to see Legolas,” he said uncertainly, glancing to him. “He would not tell me his name.”

Curious, Legolas rose. “Bring him, please,” he said, stepping away from the table.

When the attendant brought in the visitor, Legolas found himself looking at a familiar face. He stared a moment in confusion, then stepped forward. The dark-haired elf, dressed in the deep greens of Mirkwood, entered the room silently, eyes fixed on Legolas. After another moment’s hesitation, Legolas asked abruptly, “Naergon, what brings you here?”

If Naergon was troubled by Legolas’s greeting, he did not show it. He bowed slowly to Legolas. Only then did the elf speak. “My duty, my lord.” Then he fell silent, simply staring at him.

With those words, Legolas suddenly halted his slow approach and took a step backward, his eyes widening. He began to shake his head. “No. No, Naergon.” 

Naergon took a step forward to match Legolas’s retreat. He said nothing for a moment, an expression of grief clouding his fair face. Finally, he replied softly, “Yes, Legolas. Yes.” Legolas’s breath caught as the visitor reached his hand into his tunic and pulled out a small flat bundle wrapped in deep green cloth. Holding it before him, he spoke quietly. “Though the battle was fierce, we were victorious in the end. Much of the Greenwood was scorched, but we prevailed, undoubtedly a result of your father’s blade.” Legolas’s throat tightened and he struggled for a breath. 

“He was a force to be feared, surely,” Naergon continued, pride evident in his voice. “His blade sung; he was fierce and unyielding—up to the very end.” 

Silence had replaced the din of the room. The room itself faded. The only one in the room was his friend. Who would not be here, should not be here. 

“His last words were of you, my lord. He was proud of your role in the War against the Dark Lord. He looks forward to seeing you again in the Undying Lands.”

Finally, Naergon turned the bundle in his hand over and began to unravel it. With utmost care, he uncovered an exquisite circlet, such as all Elven lords wear. Legolas had worn a similar one just days ago when Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor. 

Naergon bent one knee as he offered the circlet to Legolas. “My lord, I pass on to you the circlet of the King of the Greenwood, worn by Thranduil and Oropher before him. I offer you my service and my allegiance, King Legolas of the Greenwood.”

Legolas could not keep his hands from shaking as he reached out for the circlet of the Greenwood and placed it on his head. As he closed his eyes and felt the weight of it settle upon him, he wondered that he never knew how heavy a piece of silver could be.


End file.
